Rise
by sythlar
Summary: Toph and the gaang are young adults in modern-day California. Achieving in school is hard. Making money is harder. Making rent is nearly impossible. Making music is easy, but people don't pay much for that.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing Katara said after the car drove away was that Toph, as a blind woman, shouldn't be using Uber.

"Why the hell not? I missed my last connection, and I wasn't going to walk." Toph opened up her folding cane with a flick of her wrist, specifically launching it in Katara's direction.

"Bec–ow!–because what if a murderer picked you up? How would you know?"

"How would _you_ know if a murderer picked you up?" Toph countered, extending the handle on her rolling luggage. "Do they wear big signs around their necks that say 'I only murder people who can't read this?'" She shouldered her violin case and waited.

Katara sighed. "Okay, fine, whatever. You shouldn't need to get an Uber from now on, anyway. You can walk to work with Aang, and the city bus stops right in front of our building if you need to go anywhere else."

"Cool," said Toph. "The city bus sounds _super, duper_ safe."

Katara led the way to their apartment. It would have been helpful for her to mention how much of the way was through tall grass and across a big dirt field, but then, Toph appreciated not being babied, too.

Inside, it still smelled like formaldehyde and new carpet. "The bedrooms themselves are pretty small, but the kitchen is _so_ much bigger in the three-bedroom," Katara gushed. "The sink is full-sized, it's open to the living room, and there's enough counter space to put a cutting board. It's going to be really nice."

"You think it's going to be nice for five people to share one and a quarter bathrooms?" Toph's eyebrows were sky-high.

"I can do my part by pissing in the quarter-bath sink!" a male voice shouted from another room.

"Sokka," Toph grinned. Katara's brother barreled out and gave Toph a huge hug. "How's my old lifting buddy?"

Sokka was grinning, too; she could hear it in his voice. "Doing _great_ , actually. Suki and I are engaged."

"Holy shit, congrats!" Suki and Sokka had captained athletic teams throughout middle and high school. They'd also fought hard to let Toph participate in sports when the school was worried about things like _liability_. "Are you guys gonna do it soon, or wait for chicken shit Aang and Katara to catch up and save money on a double wedding?"

"We're not afraid of getting married," Katara interrupted. "We're waiting until I finish medical school and pay down some of the debt."

"So you're gonna be, like, what, eighty?" Toph grinned. "'My interesht ratesh are down to sheventy-two pershent, Aang! Let'sh get hitsched before my hip shurgery!'"

"Why would I lose the ability to pronounce the letter 's' when I'm eighty?"

"You have your dentures out," Toph laughed, "because you were just giving the best blo–"

"Toph, _please_."

"–wjob of your life. Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Show me my room."

She took a little while to learn where everything was and count her steps. Katara had put her amp and other equipment in the corner, still in the big cardboard box Toph had mailed it to herself in. She spent a little time unpacking it, setting it up so she could play lazily in bed, while Katara arranged her clothes by type and color in the closet. With one ear under her headphones and one ear out, she tuned her electric violin. It wouldn't hurt to play a bit to celebrate her new place.

"And you know what?" Katara said, even though it had been at least five minutes since Toph had made fun of her. She did this a lot. Once, in high school, she'd showed up with a comeback a _week_ after Toph had called her a nerd, and Toph accepted it as valid for the sheer novelty of the situation. They might as well have been arguing via messenger pigeon.

"What?" Toph asked, grinning.

"You've got a lot of nerve for someone who's never even been in a relationship."

"And never will!" Toph said, pointing at her friend, or at least in the vague direction of her voice. "Though I admit that's a shame. I'm a hell of a catch, and some ugly guy out there could have gotten a free pass with me, you know? I'd let a lot slide, visually. Basically everything."

"Wouldn't you still be able to feel his face?"

Toph waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter, because relationships are bullshit. All the grabbing, and the kissing, and the 'oooh, Aang, you finally found out where the cli–'"

" _Toph!"_

"'–toris is.' You never stop me, you know, when you do that. I just keep talking."

"You can make fun all you want, but sooner or later someone will catch your eye. Or your ear, or cane, or whatever."

Toph threw a pillow at her. "You never say that to our other friends! Teo's never been in a relationship, and you leave him in peace! And what about Yue?"

"Teo's not the type for it. It's just not his thing. And Yue came out as asexual, you know that."

Usually, Toph would point out how Yue discovered she was asexual after dating Sokka, and have a big laugh at his expense, but she let it slide. "I'm _telling_ you, it's not my thing either!"

"But you're wrong," Katara said simply.

"Oh, my God," Toph groaned, leaning back on the bed. She immediately slammed her head into the wall, because she'd chucked her only pillow at Katara. "Ow."

Katara tossed it back a few seconds too late to cushion her head, hitting Toph in the chest instead. "Okay, tops on the left, bottoms on the right, the usual."

"Thanks, Katara."

"Anytime. Wanna stay in here and play for a while? We usually go to this really nice place around the block for dinner a couple of times a week. The owner gives us a huge discount. I'll come get you then."

"Sure. And really–thank you, Katara. For everything."

The older girl was quiet for a moment. "I'm just glad you got out of there, Toph."

Then she was alone.

—

Three assholes visited the Jasmine Dragon every morning, and he was _always_ on duty in the fucking morning, because his uncle hated getting up early.

There was the business owner who thought he was a god walking among his slaves, and the old man who took as many free condiments as possible when he left, but his least favorite customer was the mom who stopped by for breakfast after dropping her kids off at school. She considered unsolicited health food advice a valid substitute for a tip.

But this morning! This fucking morning, she'd crossed the line. "You have some nasty acne scars there…Zuko." She squinted and leaned forward to read his name tag every time she said his name, even though she said it every single morning. No one else worked here in the mornings! There was only one disgruntled twenty-something who worked at this fucking place at all!

"No, I don't." Zuko put her cup of cappuccino and plate of toast down on the table, only rattling the dishes a little. "Need anything else?"

She pursed her lips in that special _way_ she had. It reminded him of a cat's ass. "Sweetie, I can see them. You know what's good for acne scars? A–"

"It's a burn scar." He knew the pitted surface almost looked like an acne scar, but acne didn't generally affect one eye socket, distort an ear, and make an eye permanently squint halfway closed.

Instead of acknowledging his correction, she looked down at the food he'd brought. "This toast has char marks on it."

He looked down. "Yeah, it's brown. From being toasted."

She fixed him with a wide-eyed stare. "Those are _carcinogens_ ," she said. "I'm going to need you to make me some toast without the marks."

"So just bread, then."

She gave him a sharp look. "No, _toast_ without the _brown marks_."

Zuko picked up the plate and took it to the back. He gave the back door, open to the alley behind their shop, a fleeting glance. He could just leave. He could just walk away and be a shiftless bum who never had to deal with a customer again. He could get some tarp and build a little tent using his bicycle every night to keep out the rain.

It was a nice fantasy, but it only lasted a few seconds. Who would help his uncle with the shop if he left?

He got some bread, set the toaster to its minimum setting, and messed with it until he got two pieces which were crispy, but not brown.

—

He always forgot that the afternoons were worse until they arrived. After a few hours off in the middle of the day while his uncle held down the fort, he'd return for lunch and dinner.

"Do you want to end up like that guy?" a man in a suit asked his daughter. "A high school dropout, scraping gum off of the bottom of tables for a living?"

The teenager wrinkled her nose. "No."

"Then you'd better work hard and score better on your next math exam," her father finished, tapping the books between them on the table.

Zuko wanted to grab the father by the shoulders and shout in his face. _I have a degree in history! My LSAT score was 175!_ He knew it would accomplish nothing, so he scraped harder.

Worse were the students. He knew he shouldn't resent them, but deep in his heart, he did. He'd been good. Not as brilliant as his sister, but _good_. If he hadn't finally pushed his father too far, maybe he'd be at Harvard Law right now.

…to do what? Increase the family prestige? Continue to be trapped in the high-stress, low-ethics family business? His work at the Jasmine Dragon was meaningless, but at least he didn't have to lay awake at night wondering if he was actively contributing to someone's suffering out in the wide world.

Uncle Iroh brewed all the tea personally when he was in the shop, and he kept up a steady stream of chatter with everyone who came in. If anyone ever pissed him off, he hid it well. Actually, that was annoying; Zuko's rudeness never made his happy-go-lucky uncle give up. Iroh would just redouble his efforts, which only make Zuko angrier and ruder, and it would continue that way until they finally closed up at midnight.

Of course he'd choose today, of all days, to start up on his dating tirade while Zuko was doing inventory behind the counter.

"That nice girl, Jin, was in here again tonight," his portly uncle began, stroking his beard as he leaned on the counter. "She ordered a nice white tea with hibiscus, a good blend. She has excellent taste. You know, she has her eye on you."

"Great, Uncle. Fantastic." Zuko checked the date on their tin of jasmine, zeroed their balance with an empty container, then weighed what they had left of the tea. He checked the "reorder" box on his clipboard. "I don't care."

"Why not? It wouldn't hurt you to have some fun. You should stop avoiding her."

"It wouldn't _be_ fun." He moved on to the oolongs, ignoring his uncle's pointed stare. "I'm avoiding her for a reason."

"I could give you an extra night off," Iroh offered. "One of the students from around the block would be happy to pick up a Saturday night shift just one time. Aang seems very nice. You could take a couple of bucks, take Jin to the movies."

" _No_."

"When they come in tonight, I'll ask Aang if he's free this Saturday," Iroh went on. "Then you'll be free to ask her to go out."

"I don't want to go out."

His uncle walked away, whistling a merry tune as if nothing had happened.

Zuko contemplated the back door again. There was plenty of time before the pack of hobos from down the street came in for dinner. He could make a break for it. Sure, it'd take a few seconds to remember the combination on his bike lock, and it didn't always unlock on the first try, so he'd have to jiggle it. And he kept the front tire inside, next to the sink, as an extra deterrent to thieves, and it didn't have a quick-release nut, so he'd have to get out his wrench to put it back on…

And who would help his uncle during the busy hours?

He sighed and got back to work.


	2. Chapter 2

"The guy who owns this place is _really_ nice," Aang said. They were strolling down the street in a big, lumbering gang. Toph trailed the pack to avoid tripping anyone with her cane, and Aang apparently felt so bad about it that he was turned around and walking backwards so he could talk to her. The nerd. "His name is Iroh. He's a _big_ tea lover."

"You don't need to call him fat," Sokka said. "That's kind of rude."

"I meant his enthusiasm for tea is big!"

"Oh."

"Anyway," Aang went on, "it's mainly a tea shop, but he makes food too. Usually tea-flavored food. Oh, and his nephew works for him, but he's kind of…"

If Aang couldn't say it, it must be something bad.

"Blunt?" Suki suggested.

"Rude?" said Katara.

"A jerk," Sokka said with finality.

"No, I'm sure he's a nice guy," Aang insisted. "I mean, he wouldn't work for his uncle if he wasn't, right?"

"Maybe his uncle pity-hired him." Toph shrugged.

"Maybe he just wasn't meant to be a waiter! It's hard to put your heart into a job that isn't your calling. I know I wasn't happy until I was working with animals."

"You don't need to put your heart into a job to be _polite_ ," Toph pointed out.

"Well," said Aang, "I'm sure he has a good reason, whatever it is."

Toph could practically _feel_ the other three rolling their eyes at Aang's optimism. "People aren't dogs. They don't snap at you for a reason. People are _assholes_."

"You'd be surprised," said Aang.

They made a sharp left turn and stepped into a slightly warmer environment. From the echoes of kitchen sounds, Toph could tell that it was a small restaurant, probably with wood paneling on the walls, and the people making the food sounded experienced with the equipment.

Katara grabbed her arm and guided her to a table in the back corner. "We usually sit here," she explained. "It keeps us out of the way when _some of us_ get loud."

"My voice carries!" Sokka complained. "It's not my fault!"

"My favorite customers!" a new voice boomed. Toph knew it must be Iroh; he sounded old and jolly. "And a new guest!"

"Hey!" Katara was smiling, judging by the tone of her voice. "This is Toph, an old friend and our new roommate; she'll be working with Aang at the shelter."

"Hiya." Toph collapsed her cane, setting it across her lap.

"It's nice to meet you," the old man said. "Hmm. You look like an Oolong."

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"Iroh can tell what tea you'll like just by looking at you," Suki explained.

"It's freaky!" said Sokka.

"I guess I'm having some kind of oolong, then," Toph said. "And a water?"

"And you've gotta try the beef bowl," Sokka said. "Hell yeah. She'll have the beef bowl."

Everyone else ordered "the usual," and apparently Iroh remembered what that was for each person at the table. It was probably complicated for Aang, who had a million dietary restrictions, both ethical and medical. "My nephew will bring everything out to you," said Iroh. "I need to have a sit."

"Is it your back again?" asked Katara.

"It's always my back," the old man chuckled.

"Aw. Go rest."

Katara was going to be an awful doctor if she didn't become a little more condescending. This whole 'kindness' thing wouldn't fly. Toph could hear Iroh shuffling off.

"Isn't it nice to have the group back together again, guys?" Aang gushed. He tried to throw his arms around everyone within his reach, but Toph ducked out of the way, and he just caught Katara. Hugs were the worst.

"It's going to be pretty fun," Sokka said reluctantly. "Being an adult sucks a lot more when you're going it alone. Everyone sharing the ramen and toast at the dinner table is so much more homey."

"You're just grouchy because not every meal includes steak," said Katara.

"Hey, every meal _should_ include steak," he shot back. "It's the best food ever invented."

"How do you deal with this all day?" Toph asked Suki.

"What can I say? Love is blind. No offense," she said, grinning.

Toph laughed. Katara sighed like an exhausted preschool teacher whose students were running amock.

"Who wanted this?" said a new voice; young, male, probably the notorious nephew.

"What _is_ it?" Toph asked.

"Water," he snapped. "It's right in front of your face."

"Good, because it's hers!" said Aang, ever the peacemaker.

He slammed the cup on the table, some of it splashing over the side, and shuffled away.

"Wow," said Toph.

"Yeah," said Suki.

"I'm sure there's a reason," Aang insisted. "He's probably just a nice guy who's just going through a hard time. Come on, guys, stay positive."

—

"Is the new one a moron?" Zuko asked his uncle, adding more of the frozen beef into a pan.

"The young blind lady?" Iroh was busy brewing tea in the little hand-decorated pots he collected, which only his favorite customers got to use.

"She's _blind?_ " That would explain it. He turned to glare at his uncle's back for a moment. "How do you know?"

"She has a cane. And did you see her eyes? They do not look like most. Clouded, green. Very beautiful, actually. You know–"

"No." Zuko could sense what was happening. "No way."

"How can you say no? You don't even know her."

"Neither do you!" Zuko pointed out, angrily flipping the meat in the pan to brown the other side. "All you know is that she's friends with _them_."

"They are good people, Zuko."

"They're loud and they take advantage of your generosity."

"I feed them because I want to," Iroh said, not for the first time. "And they know that. If they were taking advantage, they would try to come more often."

Coming at all was too much, in Zuko's opinion. They always came late, too. He glared daggers at the food he was cooking. He hated that he cared about the quality of his work; he didn't cut corners, even when he was cooking for people he didn't like. It would have been nice to serve them awful food, but that wouldn't happen today. It probably wouldn't ever happen.

"If you would take some evenings off, like I want you to, maybe they would irritate you less," Iroh said.

"You need the help, uncle," Zuko grumbled, albeit gentler this time.

—

Aang might have been right; it might have been better to be kind to the asshole waiter. Toph's tea was set gently on the table, but when her beef bowl got slammed down so hard it splashed on her clothes, she snapped.

"You know, I can't see what you're doing," she said. "Maybe you could tell me when rice and sauce is about to go flying because you can't set a dish down like a human being, so I can duck next time."

"Toph," Aang pleaded quietly. But it was too late to stop what fate had decreed.

"Oh, _sorry_ ," said the waiter. " _Sorry_ for bringing out your food and doing my job. As long as I'm here, do you want to be spoon fed, too? Do you want me to pre-chew the food for you?"

Toph slammed her fists on the table. "I don't need anyone's help, but you know what? I don't need anyone's _attitude_ , either. What crawled up your ass and died and made you king?"

There was a pause. "That doesn't even make sense," said Sokka.

"What's going on?" Iroh's voice joined the crowd, presumably from the kitchen. "Are you introducing yourself to the young lady, nephew?"

"Everything's fine, Iroh," Aang said hurriedly. "Um, there was a little splash, but it's fine."

"Good, good," Iroh said. He took a seat next to Sokka on the opposite side of the table "Toph, was it? You will love the beef bowl, and the tea too, of course. My nephew cooks all the food." He poured a cup of tea from the pot his nephew had set in front of her, pushing it towards her.

It was impossible to continue arguing with the kindly old man trying to make peace. As the others began to hesitantly dig into their food, Toph tried the tea. "It's wonderful," she admitted. "Strong."

"My own special blend," Iroh said proudly. "You should try the food. You know, my nephew makes all of the food himself, and he can make the tea almost as well as I can now. Zuko, go make me some jasmine tea to share with our guests, please."

Grudgingly, Toph had to admit to herself that the food was delicious. It was easier when Zuko was out of the room.

Iroh leaned forward and spoke quietly. "Please excuse my nephew. He…is having a hard time with life right now. If he acted more like himself, I think you would like him."

"I know," Aang said quickly, eager to seize on anything that supported his personal Zuko theory. "And we really appreciate everything you do for us, Iroh. This restaurant is like a second home. The least we can do is be as nice as possible to Zuko."

"Don't mention it," Iroh said. "But if you want to help out, Aang, on Saturday you could pick up the night shift…"

Toph stayed quiet, lost in her own thoughts as she ate. Iroh seemed great, but she had nothing charitable to think about Zuko at all.

—

"You are taking Saturday off," Iroh said, after they'd closed up shop for the night.

"I don't need to take Saturday off," Zuko grumbled, washing dishes. "I'm working on my landlord's roof that day. I might as well come in before and after that."

"You are still taking the whole day off from the Jasmine Dragon," his uncle said firmly. "Go out Saturday night. Enjoy yourself."

"I don't want to enjoy myself," Zuko frowned, drying his hands.

"That's the problem," Iroh said. He clapped his nephew on the back. "Get going. I will lock up."

Iroh lived in the small apartment above the tea shop, and he'd invited Zuko to stay with him many times, but he didn't feel right imposing on his uncle so much. He'd gotten an even smaller attic apartment a few miles away instead. The landlord let him stay there in exchange for handyman work in his downtime.

He got on his rickety bike and began the journey home for the night. In a way, it was soothing to ride the distance slowly, breathing the midnight air and letting the tight grip he kept on his thoughts relax.

It was only a few blocks away from the tea shop when he heard the soft, distant sound of a violin.


	3. Chapter 3

"Basically, it's the biggest animal shelter in the county," Aang said. It was early morning–not truly early, but early for Toph–and they were commencing their first walk to work. "That's why there's a dedicated call center. Sometimes we get panicked calls, or people who are really confused, so, well, it's hard to find someone who can handle the job."

"Thanks for sticking your neck out to get me this job," Toph said. The sidewalk was uneven on this route, making her walk slower than she liked. "The good news is, I'll make you look great. I've got this job on lock." She'd handled worse in the past, but he didn't know it, of course. She could never tell Aang the details of her previous work, and she didn't want to tell anyone else, either.

The shelter was, mercifully, air conditioned. "The vet is right next to the front office," Aang explained, "so we can have lunch together. I'll come pick you up, okay?"

"Sure, sure," Toph said, waving him away.

The office manager was an older woman named June. She worked with a ruthless efficiency that Toph appreciated; they got along immediately. The first half of the day was consumed with Toph learning the positions and operations of the equipment, as well as basic shelter guidelines, but the job was easy enough after that. Her mind wandered as she redirected questions about lost animals, pets for adoption, local events, booster shots. On some level, there was a melody to the calls. Maybe she could distill the essence of that, the urgency about issues that were rarely urgent, into a composition.

Soon enough, it was closing time. Aang chattered about removing a urinary tract blockage from a cat the entire way home. It was lucky Toph had been tuning people out all day; Aang was just one more voice to answer mechanically.

—

Her days fell into a comfortable rhythm. Her days at the animal shelter were dull but pleasant, and the gang ate dinner together, usually at home, sometimes at the Jasmine Dragon. Iroh chatted about work and his nephew remained a surly asshole.

In the evenings, she took to playing outside with her amp on quietly. Their apartment was on the second floor, the carports directly under them, and the living room had a balcony that hung out over the alley behind their building. Almost no one with rights to those parking spots actually owned a car, and Toph was the only one in their building who liked being outside at that humid time of day, so it was quiet. She'd draw the curtains shut behind her and be alone after dinner, distant traffic and birds and bugs her only audible companions, until somewhere around midnight.

It had been a while since she'd officially quit being a child prodigy. It had taken two years of confusion for her to realize that the music was in her soul. She had been forced to practice, yes, forced to perform, but she hadn't been forced to love the violin. That had always been there.

So she'd gone back to playing, and now she did so without direction. Sometimes it was fun to play timeless, challenging classics. Sometimes covering pop songs was more entertaining. More often than not, she'd just _play_. Whatever came to mind came out of her instrument, filling the air with soft strains the world had never heard before. She learned to coax strange sounds out of her violin, to imitate drumbeats, to imitate a voice.

It was a month before she noticed that someone was listening to her nearly every night.

—

Zuko wasn't sure exactly how it had begun. He'd heard the distant music, and one night he'd decided to follow it without really deciding. It wasn't a conscious decision. Maybe this was how people fell prey to sirens: no thought, only visceral reaction.

It only took a little while to find out where it was coming from. He'd expected a radio, and a man who owned it who he would speak to: that's nice! Who composed it? And the man would say oh, it was some person, and Zuko would download it to listen to while he worked on his landlord's roof.

Instead, he saw a woman with black hair. It hung in front of her face, shielding her eyes from view; not that that was much of a loss, because she was engulfed in darkness. Zuko had to wait for his eyes to adjust to see the she held an electric violin, her eyes tightly closed and her bangs swinging as she played, emotion spilling from her to the sweet music in the air.

It would be wrong to interrupt her, so he shut his eyes and listened, and then he left.

The next night, he promised himself he'd speak to her if he heard her again. He rode his bike directly under her balcony, and was ready to tell her she was an incredible musician when she shifted positions and he saw her face clearly.

It was the new girl who came in with the bums. Of course it was. This was their apartment, and he couldn't say anything now. She didn't like him, and besides, it was creepy. It would look as though he'd followed her home, when it had actually been a complete coincidence that he showed up here. He left right away.

That was the last time he'd had justification to visit her. After that, it was pure selfishness. He'd pedal his rickety bike out there, quietly listen for a while, closing his eyes and losing himself in the music, then he'd go back to the crapbox he called an apartment and rest up in anticipation of a new day of working nonstop and forgetting the past.

—

Of course, it couldn't last forever.

Zuko listened to her work through Paginini's caprices three days in a row. From the sound of it, she wasn't new to them; she was brushing up on an old skill, which was remarkable. She wasn't all that old. Her style was clean; she rarely faltered, and usually when she did, it was on original compositions. He suspected that was when she wasn't sure what to play next, not when she truly made a mistake.

She was on the twenty-fourth caprice when the music abruptly stopped.

"Hey. You. I can hear you down there," she said. "I've been able to hear you every fucking night. I don't have anything against people listening to me play, but do you wanna say hello? Instead of standing there like a mouthbreathing stalker, maybe?"

Shit. "I wanted to," he said quietly, knowing his voice would carry between the carport and the sound-retaining wall, "but I didn't know how to start."

She was silent for a moment, those pale eyes of her contemplative. Did she recognize his voice? Did she know how expressive her face was? "Are you really that clueless? I thought you were rude on purpose, but apparently you're just a moron who blunders into it."

 _She sounds like–_ "Fine," he snapped, gripping his handlebars. "I'm leaving. Sorry."

Her bitter laugh echoed, assaulting him from every direction at once. "I've never heard anyone sound less sorry."

"I said I'm leaving," he growled. "I said I'm sorry. What more do you _want_?"

She stood up, resting her hands on the handrail. "I want you to stop being such a chicken shit and tell me what your problem is. You got something to say to me, why don't you fucking say it? Why don't you come up here and say it to my face?"

For a moment, he was dizzy with rage. He leaned his shitty bicycle against the wall and stomped up the stairs from the carport without even considering what he was doing, or how wildly illogical it was.

The door opened as he reached the top of the stairs, and she was standing there, her hair hanging loose down her back, haloed by a single, flickering fluorescent kitchen light and nothing else. Then she stepped forward and pulled him down to kiss her.

For the half-second before he questioned what was happening, he groaned against her lips. She felt divine, warm and soft in all the perfect places against his body, small and delicate in his arms.

Then his head jerked back and he inhaled. It felt like he'd been drowning, and maybe he had been, in a way.

"I can feel a stupid question coming," she warned him. Her voice was usually shrill, but now it was low and he imagined it was gilded like honey. "Shut the fuck up, unless you don't want this."

He wasn't _that_ stupid. He kicked the door shut behind them. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, ripping it a little as she forced his face back down to her level, her lips assaulting and engulfing his, then working down his jaw and neck. His arms had snaked around her waist, but now they explored her without hesitation, feeling the slim, feminine figure underneath the baggy clothes she favored.

"Get on the couch." She pulled back, giving him a push in that direction, hard enough that he stumbled, scrambling backwards to obey. As she stalked forward in pursuit, she shed layers of clothing; sweater, tank top, jeans, socks. He barely had time to register that she was stunning in black lingerie before she leaned over him, finding his belt and violently unbuckling it, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, gripping his cock and pulling it out. He was hard and sensitive and her fingers were harsh; a strangled sound escaped his throat. There was a papery ripping sound, and she pushed a condom down over him without warning or care.

And then she had pushed her panties aside and mounted him; without a word, she guided him into her. She was wet and tight and he was sure he was dreaming. "Fuck me," she murmured. "Fuck me _hard_ , you piece of shit."

How could he not obey?

He thrust into her, lust like fire in his veins. There was no one else in the world, just him and this woman who was spewing insults at him while demanding his body. He flipped her onto her back and slammed into her, his hips flush against her ass. She wanted to be fucked hard? Fine. He'd fuck her hard.

She slapped him.

For a heartbeat he stopped, shocked. And then, as the pain blossomed across his burned cheek, he gripped her thighs and pulled her into him as he thrust forward. She was delicately built, and he was strong, had always been strong. If her slap was a challenge, he would rise to it and challenge her back.

Within a minute, she was shuddering and shivering under him, the most delicious sight he'd ever seen. He pulled her up so that she was straddling his lap and he was still thrusting up into her so hard the slap was deafening. He bent down to scrape his teeth along her neck, sucking hard and fierce just above her collarbone, leaving an angry red mark behind. His thumb found her clit and glided over it, circling fast, forcing rather than coaxing her to climax again.

"You like that?" he murmured against her neck. "You're not going to be able to walk when I'm done with you, Toph."

It was the first time he'd said her name. Maybe it was a coincidence, but she shivered atop him again at that declaration, crying out. Her nails clawed their way down his back, and he hissed at the sting of them, feeling the damp trails they left behind and knowing she'd drawn blood.

He lost all sense of time after that. When he finished, his clothes were on the floor and he was pounding into her from behind, her body bent over the back of the couch and her breasts bouncing to the harsh rhythm. He pushed into her as deep as he could manage and held himself there for a long moment, groaning.

Then he pulled out and collapsed onto the couch, panting.

Toph propped herself up on her elbows, then lowered her feet to the floor carefully, one at a time. She ran into his pants with her feet, kicked them up into her hand, then tossed them right onto him. "Get out."

"W-what?"

"Get. Out. Leave. Depart. Go home. God, you really are a moron."

"Now?" he was still almost certain he was dreaming. This couldn't be real.

"What, do you want to stick around and cuddle?" she asked, one brow raised.

He tied off the condom and had no idea what to do with it. So he pulled on his underwear and his pants and his shirt as she threw them at him, and put the condom in his pocket. It'd seen worse. "Fine, I'm going."

She'd found a nightshirt while he struggled with buttoning up his dress shirt, complete with torn collar, in the near-dark. She grabbed his arm and walked him to the door, practically throwing him outside.

He thought she was going to slam the door in his face, so he turned away and started towards the stairs.

"Zuko."

He turned around. His name sounded strange on her lips.

"You can listen to me play any time."

"Okay," he said.

She slammed the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Something conflicted with the final strains of Ravel's Bolero in Toph's headset. She pushed it aside.

"–with us tonight?" Katara was saying.

"What?" she shouted back.

Katara poked her head into the room. "I said, you've been holed up in here all day today and probably all day yesterday too. Are you going to come out with us tonight?"

"Ugh," said Toph. "Where are you going?"

"Aang has free passes to the movies. Have you even eaten today?"

Toph wrinkled her nose. "Yes, _mom_. I've got my own fridge and microwave in here." Some popcorn and a shitty movie wouldn't hurt, though. She had definitely been playing too long; playing kept her from thinking too hard about anything but music. "But I am pretty hungry right now. Okay, fine. Free movies sound good." She put aside her violin and headset, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and– _ow_.

She smirked. _He was right. It is pretty hard to walk_.

"What's so funny?" asked Katara.

"Nothing. I should get up and stretch more." She did now, and was rewarded with a crack from her spine. "Let's go."

—

"I can't believe I didn't check the expiration date," Aang whined.

"Me neither," Katara said dryly.

"Who even goes to the movies anymore?" Toph asked, swinging her cane back and forth and half-step ahead of them. "How are they still in business? There's no way most people can afford a sixteen dollar ticket around here. We're right next to the community college; it's poor-student-ville."

"We're next to the university, too, so maybe people with rich parents?" Aang suggested. "I–I mean–who still talk to them?"

Toph could hear Katara elbow him for saying something so insensitive..

"Look, why don't we just go to the Jasmine Dragon? It's just around the corner," Katara finally said. "At least the night won't be a total waste."

 _Shit, shit, shit._ "You guys go ahead. I think I should go home."

"Why? Are you feeling okay?" Katara was definitely frowning.

"Yeah, I'm just not…" Shit, she'd said she was hungry at home, she couldn't deny it now. Her stomach had been growling the whole time they'd been out. "…never mind. Let's go."

It had been a brief thing. Spur of the moment. Two adults having a one night stand. There was no reason for it to be awkward, right?

—

They sat down at their usual table, and Toph stumbled on the way.

"You okay?" asked Katara.

"Yeah." She never stumbled, ever. She sat down in her usual chair and folded her cane in her lap.

She heard footsteps in the kitchen; heard them round the corner, heard them falter then continue up to the table. "Hey, guys. My uncle is gonna be busy for a couple of minutes, so may I get you started?"

The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Toph could _feel_ Aang and Katara look at each other, confused, before Katara answered. "Um, yeah. Beef bowls and Iroh's choice of tea, I guess?"

"Sure," said Zuko. "And an extra water for you, Toph?"

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks."

He left, and there was a brief moment of suspense.

"Well, that's different," said Katara, quiet.

"I knew he was a nice guy!" Aang whispered. "See how nice he is?"

Toph decided not to join in their observations. If she did, she might laugh or tell them all he needed was a good lay or just walk away and not come back.

"What was wrong with his face, though?" Katara went on. "Did you see that? It was all red below his scar."

"He has a scar?" That was news.

"Yeah, it looks like a burn around his eye," said Katara. "And it almost looks like he's got a bruise below it today. Did he get mugged or something? Why would that make him happy?"

Aw, shit. "What side is the scar on?"

"Um, his left. Why?"

"Just curious." Toph was right handed, and she'd been facing him when... _shit_.

"Maybe they stole something he hated," said Aang.

"Why would he carry around something he hated? That makes no sense, sweetie."

"I don't know, Katara! I was just thinking," Aang sighed. "Whatever happened, I'm glad he's feeling better."

"You're so nice, even to jerks." There was a disgusting smacking noise. Great, that was all she needed: Katara and Aang were at it again.

Toph rested her elbows on the table and began to massage her temples. She hated being the third wheel while Sokka and Suki were visiting her parents for the weekend, but at least it was keeping them from speculating about the waiter. It was difficult to imagine they'd figure it out–but that depended on Zuko, didn't it? What if he said something?

She felt ill.

"Guys, I'm going to take a walk, just around the building. Try not to suck each others' faces off while I'm gone," she said.

She could feel Katara's surprise before she heard it in her voice. "Okay, Toph. Be careful."

—

"You're in a good mood," said Iroh.

Zuko shrugged and added more sauce to the pan of beef he was cooking.

"I haven't seen you in a good mood in years," his uncle went on, elbowing him. "Is it a girl? Your face is red."

"My face is red because I'm leaning over a stove," Zuko half-lied. The stove was certainly part of it.

"You didn't answer the question."

And he never had to; there was a knock at the open back door.

"Please tell me this is the Jasmine Dragon and I didn't miscount my steps," said Toph, her cane sweeping from side to side.

"You're in the right place," Iroh said, massively amused. His bushy white brows were sky high as he looked his blushing nephew straight in the guilty eyes.

Zuko looked away fast. "What do you need?" he asked Toph, not unkindly.

"I need to chat with you, if you have a second." She jerked her head towards the back alley. "About my friends."

Zuko told so many half-lies that he knew one when he heard it. "Uh, yeah. Sure." He dried his hands on his apron and looked at his uncle again.

"I'll finish this," Iroh nodded, taking over at the stove.

Zuko brushed past him–there wasn't very much room in the kitchen, and his uncle had an ample build–and into the cool darkness outside. There was a broken bench against the wall of the movie theater, and while it was almost completely entrenched in darkness, it was also secluded. Most of the other shops in their strip mall were closed for the night, and the bench wouldn't be within earshot or sight of anyone.

And darkness wouldn't bother Toph, would it? He heard her cane sweeping back and forth a step behind him, skating over uneven pavement.

"Over here," he said, sitting down. In the dim light of a half-moon, he could see her fingers brush against the seat of the bench before she sat. It was so subtle, he could have missed it; she moved with a natural, fluid grace, the little precautions she took to account for her lack of eyesight blending into every gesture until they were almost invisible. With a start, he realized she must have been blind for years, possibly her whole life.

"So what's up?" he asked.

"Stop acting weird in front of my friends," she said, pointing directly at his face. Well, she was slightly to the left, but it was pretty close.

"I wasn't acting weird!"

"You were polite," she hissed. "That's really fucking weird for you."

"Well, _sorry_ ," he growled back. " _Sorry_ that I can't feel resentful towards you anymore."

"You can't feel rese–what the _fuck_ is wrong with you? I practically gave you a black eye. Be angry."

He couldn't be angry when he'd enjoyed it so much. But he also couldn't _say_ that. It was too weird.

"Are you listening?" She gave him a sharp shove. "I asked what's wrong with you!"

He took a deep breath. "Look, I had a great time the other night." He ran his hands through his hair. It would have been a better way to relieve some of his stress if his hair was still in that trendy, shaggy cut he'd had when he was younger, but he'd shaved his head when he moved out here to the desert to stay with Iroh, and it had only grown back a little. "An amazing time. And I can't hate anyone who makes music like you do."

It was her turn to fall completely silent, her blank green gaze locked somewhere on his chest.

"I can try to be rude if you want," he went on, "but I'm not a great actor. And, you know, I think it'd be great to, uh, to go out with you sometime."

"Woah, woah, woah," she said, raising her hands between them, as if to ward him off. "Look, I don't do the relationship thing, buddy."

"Oh." He tried to puzzle out what the hell that meant for them. "So…last night was a one-time thing?"

She shrugged. "You were a pretty good lay. We can fuck sometimes if you want."

He swallowed against the lump that was suddenly in his throat, making breathing hard and stinging his eyes. "I…um…"

"Alright, then. So act normal in front of my friends." She lightly punched his shoulder, clicking her tongue in time with the contact, shook out her cane, and walked back towards the restaurant.

Zuko watched her go. Her stride was confident, and there hadn't been any doubt in her tone or in the shine of her startling green eyes in the starlight, not even a little.

It would be wrong to ask her for a relationship if she didn't want it, but he was old enough to know the melodramatic quirks of his own heart. It wouldn't thrive on meaningless sex.

The only other option was to avoid her completely, but he knew it would suffer if he did that, too. He hadn't been musical for so long; he hadn't felt like it since he was a kid, since his family was whole (and his face unmarred). But he didn't think she'd care if he explained that listening to her had made him want to sing again.

(She certainly wouldn't understand if he explained that her slapping and berating him and demanding his body had been cathartic, flushing guilt and anger out of his system that had been festering for years. Nor would she understand that he'd felt like garbage when she slammed the door in his face, utterly worthless, nothing but trash.)

Then he'd keep listening to her play, he decided, and maybe someday he could thank her. A person like Toph was worth knowing, romantically or not.

He shuffled back towards the kitchen.

—

Toph was disgusted.

She'd slept with him for several reasons. Primarily boredom and horniness, of course, but there had been other things. She liked the sound of his voice when he snapped at his uncle in the kitchen. She liked how surly he was to the tea shop's patrons. But most of all, she liked that he didn't treat her with pity; he hated her as much as he hated any customer. And oh, he had lived up to her wildest expectations on that count; it had been perfect, exactly what she needed.

Until he'd asked her on the classic guilt date. It was worse than "I slept with you so I should pretend to care for a day," because there was also an undercurrent of "what kind of guy has a one-night stand with a blind girl? I'm better than that," and it infuriated her.

Well, fuck him. She wasn't on this planet to soothe his delicate man-baby feelings, and she was no one's charity case. She'd enjoy life on her own terms.


	5. Chapter 5

Zuko couldn't sleep. It had decided to rain all day Friday, and even though the weather was still hot and muggy, he could tell he was catching a cold by the time he got home from work in the afternoon. Toph and her friends hadn't been in for a week, since the night he'd talked to her out back, but he'd looked up, startled, every time the door opened, and he knew his uncle had noticed.

He told Zuko to take the evening off, so he tried to work on his landlord's roof. Between blowing his nose every five seconds and the rain, he didn't get very much done before he had to lay tarps over the worst of the old shingles and give up for the day. And that was the least of the weatherproofing problems the drafty old building had. Fans were great for dry heat, but in this humidity, they did almost nothing. It felt like a warm, wet towel was being pressed against Zuko's face every time he tried to draw breath. He took a shower to get rid of the sweat and dust he'd accumulated on the roof, but it didn't make him feel any better.

The futon never wanted to open when he needed it to. He'd bought the ancient, rusty thing for thirty bucks at a garage sale. It took a kick and a lot of cursing to make it fold open with a shriek of protest. He pulled his old quilt and pillow out from under it, threw it on the mattress, plugged in his phone, turned out the lights, and scuttled under the covers like the pathetic roach he was.

For a long time, he just heard his breathing and the hum of his electric fan oscillating from side to side, nothing else. Sleep refused to take him.

He lifted his phone in front of his face to check the time, grimacing at the brightness. 8:12 PM. Why did it feel like it was midnight? he wondered. Before he could answer himself, the unlock screen changed to the incoming call screen.

212 area code.

He sighed and pressed the answer button against his better judgement. " _What?_ "

"Oh, _hello_ , Zuko. I didn't think you'd pick up." The cloying tone made him feel ill, bringing back memories he wished he could cut out of his mind forever.

"What do you want?" He suppressed another sigh.

"I can't call my brother just to say hi?" she purred. It was disturbing, but that was the tone she took on with everyone. He hated it, even if he didn't hate her. Not anymore.

"You never have before," he grumbled.

"Well, you're not entirely wrong. I thought we could meet up. I haven't seen you or our uncle for so long, and my girlfriend is putting on a show near where you live."

"Which one?" he asked dryly.

"The one who _does_ shows, dumb-dumb. Ty Lee."

"And Mai?" Even he could tell that his voice was tense.

"She'll be there, too." It had been years since the incident, but Azula was still delighted to talk about her. "It's really a shame I can't talk them into-"

He didn't want to hear about her relationship; he _really_ didn't. "Okay, well, call Uncle. He still has a landline at the Jasmine Dragon. Do you have the number?"

He gave it to her then hung up and finally, mercifully, curled up on the futon.

But sleep still wouldn't come.

Old habits were hard to break. Their father had pitted Zuko and Azula against each other from the time they were infants; it was probably easier that way. By the time they were teenagers, they didn't have to think too hard about the tasks their father was asking of them. They were too embroiled in their rivalry to care that they were being used for some of the riskier parts of the family business, the trafficking and the killing that would carry lighter penalties for children under eighteen.

Zuko rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms until stars and lightning appeared behind them. He didn't want to think about that now, or possibly ever. It was over now, after all. And even though it hurt to remember how Mai had chosen Azula over him, he didn't begrudge his sister the relationship. He'd thought Azula had a girlfriend to appear shocking and get attention, at first. He'd been doubly sure when she had two girlfriends and played them off each other. But now, in their twenties, the three women seemed to have settled into a loving little...cluster?...of humanity.

With the added perspective of distance and time, Zuko didn't begrudge Azula her happiness anymore. He didn't hate her, and she didn't hate him. But he didn't want to think about her, either.

He didn't really have a choice, though, when they were on the cover of every magazine. Ty Lee had had a number-one-hit song as of last year, and she, Mai, and Azula were constantly in the spotlight, their private lives gossiped about, their clothes scrutinized. Maybe if his sister hadn't been quite so _notorious_ , the tabloids wouldn't focus on her; but the gorgeous young daughter of a kingpin who now lived in a three-way relationship with a pop star and an heiress was going to attract attention, there was no way around it.

At least his father had disowned Zuko so completely that no one really knew he existed. A mixed blessing. He hoped his sister was clever enough to travel quietly and avoid adding a loser brother to her notoriety.

Who was he kidding? Of course she was clever enough to ditch the press. He hoped she was _kind enough_ not to lead them to his door. _Thoughtful_ enough. It wasn't a very strong hope, because she'd never been very kind or thoughtful. That was why she was so much better than him at their work.

Lifting up his phone up again, he squinted at the screen. 8:30 PM.

He closed his eyes.

They were all sitting around on the floor eating bowls of...stuff. When Toph was a kid, she didn't know meals like this existed, but now it was comfort food to her: chili, made with the cheapest ingredients known to man, spooned out over rice that they'd bought in a 25 lb. bag for $14.99 at an Asian supermarket.

"What would life be like without a rice cooker?" Sokka gushed. "A lot more expensive, I bet."

"You wanna save money, you've gotta ask Asians," Toph grinned, reaching out to bump fists with Aang. "We know what's up."

"Well, that's uncomfortably racist," said Sokka. "Besides, didn't you grow up in a mansion?"

Toph shrugged. Bantering with Sokka was fun, but she wasn't interested in talking about their childhoods, and she doubted he and Katara were, either. They'd had a rough time of it. Besides, there were more interesting things to discuss.

"This guy at work today today had no idea what a ferret was," Aang said.

"Seriously?" Sokka laughed.

"What was his best guess?" asked Suki, clearly grinning, judging by her voice.

"Cat snake," said Toph.

Everyone laughed.

"Hand to God," Aang went on, "he said he found a cat snake. I had to stand there and not laugh as handed it to me in a cat carrier."

"Aren't they illegal here?" asked Katara. "Did you have to put the little guy down?"

"Nah," said Toph. "I found someone to adopt him in Arizona, real fast. They're going to say it's their ferret who was stolen, or something."

"You're going to get in trouble if they found out you did that," Aang pointed out. "It's definitely not standard procedure. Lying on a government job is a pretty big deal."

"Pfffffft." Toph rolled her eyes, a skill she'd perfected with a ton of feedback from Katara and Suki. "How are they gonna find out? I did it on my personal phone, the ad was vague, and cat snake guy is long gone, so you and the new guardians are the only ones who know."

"It's still dodgy, Toph."

She hated when Aang got that stern, serious tone in his voice. He was a little shit and she could snap him in half like a dry twig; she refused to take him seriously. "Yeah, well, I'm a dodgy person."

There was a knock at the door and a chorus of dropped forks.

"Who could that be?" Katara muttered, standing up. "It's nine at night."

Toph had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. "Just let them stand there," she said. "It's probably just someone selling ten dollar candy bars."

"It could be someone we know," Suki pointed out.

Toph heard the slight squeak as Katara leaned against the door to look out the peephole. "I think it's that guy..." she said softly, then stopped. "Who is it?" she called out, cracking the door open.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Hello. Zuko here."

Toph followed him down to the empty carport below the apartment, where he'd leaned his bicycle against a pillar. "Well?"

"I, uh..." He sounded congested.

"I told you three things," she whispered, ticking them off on her fingers. "Act normal in front of my friends. We can have sex if you want. You can listen to me play. You already fucked up the first one tonight, the apartment's full, and it's too rainy for me to sit out and play, so what do you want?" She was dizzy with the effort of keeping her temper in check; she gripped the pillar for support.

"To talk?" he asked quietly. "Maybe to be your friend?"

That snapped the last of her composure. "You mean to soothe your conscience," she hissed, leaning in close so she could be heard over the rain, but not by her friends upstairs. "I don't need your pity!"

"Wh-what?" He took a half step backwards, and she pursued, poking her finger into the center of his chest.

"Don't play dumb! I didn't want you to ask me out on a pity date, and I _don't_ want you to make pity visits to the blind girl you fucked so you can feel better about 'taking advantage' or whatever. I chose you, don't forget it!"

"I-I won't," he stammered. "I'm not-I'm not here for-"

Toph straightened, dropping her accusing finger and scowling in what she hoped was his direction.

"I mean," he went on, rubbing the back of his neck, "I came here because I couldn't sleep, I'm sick, my sister's..." He sighed. "My life is a mess and I kind of needed someone to talk to."

"So you came to your favorite musical performer/quick lay," Toph muttered back, rolling her eyes. "Not buying it. Go to a friend's place."

"I don't have..." He stopped, clearly self-conscious.

Her irritation faded a little, against her will.

"Look, do I need to finish that sentence?" he snapped, finally pushed to anger himself. "I don't have any fucking friends, okay? I live in a shithole. I have a worthless degree. I can't afford to go to law school. I go to work and I go home and I try not to think about the past or the future or..." He ran a hand through his hair. "Or the present, I guess."

Toph bit the insides of her cheeks, but her smirk still showed a little.

"I heard you play music, I love music, I thought maybe we could be friends someday. I didn't want to have sex with you-"

She raised a brow.

"I-I-I mean-I did," he stammered, "I really, really wanted to once I realized that was an option, but that's not why I came here that night, or tonight, or any night."

Toph reached up to run her hand across her face. It was so humid that there was a slick of sweat or fog or rain splashback that felt like slime on her skin. "So you just want to talk to someone about your crap life so you can sleep."

"Yeah." He exhaled shakily.

Toph sighed. "Fine, but we need to get out of the rain."

"Uh, we can go to the Jasmine Dragon," he suggested, hesitant.

"Whatever. Fine. Let me just tell my friends where I'm going."


	6. Chapter 6

Using both an umbrella and a cane looked difficult. Zuko would have preferred to give her lift on his handlebars, but it seemed wrong to ask, not to mention a little dangerous. His bike wasn't the most structurally sound. It was a good thing that the restaurant was so close, because he could feel Toph's patience running out with each step.

The bell on the front door rang as they stepped in.

"Nephew," Iroh said, surprised. "I thought I gave you the evening off. And you brought Toph!"

"Can she and I talk here for a while?" Zuko asked, immediately irritated with his uncle's chipper attitude.

"Of course!" Iroh gushed. "Anything for my beloved nephew and my favorite customer. I'll get you tea right away. And maybe some–"

"Just tea would be great," Toph said, more politely than he'd ever heard her speak. "Please don't go to any trouble. Thank you so much."

The old man bustled away, whistling.

"So for starters, your uncle wants you to get laid," Toph commented. "Why don't we work outward from that?"

"He thinks a relationship, any relationship, would be a band aid for everything that's wrong in my life. He doesn't understand. I'm way past needing a band aid. I need emotional surgery."

"That sounds like a Fall Out Boy title, " Toph said dryly. "That whole little rant, one title. So what's so bad? You moved to California thinking it was all palm trees and beaches, then you got stuck here and you're still poor?"

A memory returned unbidden: the sleek black Alfa Romeo he'd been gifted for his sixteenth birthday. "Not exactly," he said, hesitant to launch into an explanation. Which was silly. He'd practically begged her to talk to him. "My family is loaded."

Toph's brows rose. "So Uncle Tea is a hobbyist?"

Zuko sighed. "Not him, he got out of the family business a long time ago. Even before I did."

"The family business?"

He looked down at his hands. "Yeah, um. You know, it's…well, it's…crime."

"Crime," she repeated.

"Yeah, uh, organized. Organized crime."

Iroh burst out from the swinging door to the back. "Crunchy shrimp, noodles, and cinnamon-flavored chai for Toph," he said, placing the food on the table. "And ginger water with lime for you, Zuko. You are becoming ill."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed," Zuko muttered.

"This smells great, Iroh." Toph was so pretty when she smiled. It was probably because she never forced herself to smile, so it was always genuine, straight from her icy heart. "Thank you."

"I will leave you two alone," Iroh beamed, showing himself into the back room.

"Organized crime," Toph repeated, raising a brow.

There was an extended silence, the shop's muted background music taking over. Iroh had the taste of a pretentious 20-year-old woman, always looking for independent artists and mellow, upbeat songs with lyrics about independence and breaking tradition.

It was so much easier to think about the music than what to say next.

"My father built up an empire," Zuko said. "He raised us both to do the dirty work for him, and do it well. I didn't really have the talent or the will to take over. My sister had both, and she…" He ran his hands over his face, as if he could scrub away the foggy feeling in his mind. "I guess what pushed me over the edge is that she called me tonight. I haven't talked to her in years."

"What'd she want?" Toph asked, picking at the crunchy shrimp. "Your help with one last heist?"

"We didn't do 'heists.' She said she just wanted to see my uncle and me."

"And you don't want to see her, but you told her to come by anyway, because that's how your brain works."

"No, I…well…" He sighed. "Yeah."

"For fuck's sake." She shook her head. "So you think she has some kind of ulterior motive? Getting you back into the business, or whatever."

"It's not that. They don't want me back in the fold and I wouldn't go if they did. It's probably that…" He ran a hand through his increasingly badly-kept hair. "…she wants me to run into my ex-girlfriend."

"They traveling together or something?"

"No, they're together. Romantically. With a third girl who's…well, she's Ty Lee."

"The pop star?" Toph's brows rose. "Oh my god, your sister is…" She laughed. "So your family is the Zh–"

"Don't say it," Zuko said quickly. "Uncle and I go by the name Li here."

"So you used to date Ty Lee? Nah, it must have been…what's her name? Mai? Tall, waifish, has that really lovely voice?"

"Yeah." Zuko didn't know he could infuse one word with so much emotion, but it came out that way, whether he liked it or not: resigned. Nostalgic. "We did theater together at the private high school I went to."

"You did theater," Toph repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Wow. So, do you miss her? It kind of sounds like you do."

Zuko shook his head. It took him a long, silent moment to remember Toph couldn't see that, or the expression that was surely on his face. He'd never been good at hiding his emotions. "Not really. No more than the other people I knew back then. It's…" He looked down into his cup and exhaled, his breath disturbing the placid surface of the ginger water and scrambling the reflection of the recessed light in the ceiling.

"Your whole old life?" Toph asked softly.

That gentle tone was so foreign, he could hardly tell it was her voice. He was shocked into looking up abruptly, and he saw…something…cross her face, some unknown emotion that she quickly suppressed.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I know I made the right decision, starting a new life here. I didn't really have a choice. But I still…" He didn't know how to finish that, so he let it hang.

"Yeah," said Toph. "I think I know what you mean."

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, for which Zuko was grateful. It was kind of nice to know he'd laid out some of his ugliest crimes in front of her, and she hadn't run away as fast as she could. The free food was surely a factor, but still.

He'd finished half his drink, letting it slowly clear his sinuses, when Toph opened her mouth to speak again. He instinctively winced, but she didn't say whatever intrusive, hurtful thing he expected.

"I can't imagine you in theater. You must be a better actor visually than you are aurally."

He relaxed.

"I wasn't great at it," he admitted. "But my singing voice is okay."

" _Musical_ theater?" she asked, brows sky high.

"Yeah." He frowned. "Why?"

She grinned and shook her head. "You're a _huge_ fucking nerd."

"No." But at the sound of his own sullen voice, he cracked. He had to smile, just a little. "Okay, maybe."

The bell on the front door rang, and Toph's face went impassive in the space of three seconds, all the animation that had made him smile fading away. Zuko looked up, irritated.

His irritation increased threefold when he saw it was Jin. She smiled and waved at him, but before she could do more, Iroh barreled out of the kitchen and intercepted her.

"Ah, Jin!" he boomed. "I was just closing up. Can I get you something to go?"

Zuko sighed and rolled his eyes. He was facing Toph, away from the door; no one saw it.

"Someone you know?" Toph asked, arching a brow.

"Regular customer," he muttered back. He didn't want to tell her that Iroh had been trying to set him up with Jin for ages. Or that Iroh was desperately trying to get rid of her now because he'd clearly decided his nephew should be with Toph. Or that, for once, Zuko agreed with his uncle.

"If Iroh's closing up soon, I should probably get back home, too," Toph said, reaching for her cane. "Feeling a little better now?"

"Yeah." He stood a little too fast, his chair scraping backwards. He saw the questioning look that crossed Toph's face and wanted to kick himself for being so eager. "Can I keep you company on the way?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

"Wait here." Zuko rushed to the kitchen, poking his head in. "We're going, Uncle."

"Walk her home," Iroh said.

"I am."

The old man nodded.

They were back out into the night before Toph spoke again, a weak streetlight casting a shifting shadow of his bicycle spokes across her feet. Aside from bugs and the occasional car on a nearby road, it was eerily quiet, like the hush of an insulated theater. He blamed the humidity that was pressing in on them. "Pretty cute of you, walking me back," she said. "You think a wimpy-looking nerd is gonna deter crime?"

"If you're trying to irritate me," Zuko smiled faintly, "it's not going to work. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" she grinned.

"You know I don't look wimpy." He knew he was verging dangerously close to flirting, but she'd brought it up.

"Hel _lo_." She waved her hand in front of her face. "In case you forgot, I'm blind."

"It doesn't really matter. The lights were out at the time." Why did he always seek out danger, even interpersonal danger? The memory of being kicked out of her apartment was still raw.

But she was still amused, or at least she looked it. "I don't remember saying you weren't wimpy."

"Not–not in those words," he faltered.

She smiled. "What words do you remember?"

"I–" He was having trouble riding his bike and thinking about that night at the same time. "I don't–I mean, I remember a lot, but I don't think I should–"

Toph laughed, but it wasn't unkind. "I'll stop teasing you."

"Thanks," he breathed.

"But you've gotta loosen up," she went on. "About everything."

"That's easier said than done."

She made a quiet grunt of agreement, and they walked in silence for a while. There was almost no one else out, probably because it was a miserable night better spent in air conditioning. They were rounding the last corner leading up to Toph's apartment when she spoke again.

"Would it help if we hang out sometime?"

"You changed your mind?" He looked over at her, startled.

"I didn't say that," she said sharply. "I'm still not interested in dating, or a relationship, or any of that shit." She sighed. "But I might have misjudged your intentions to begin with. I wouldn't mind hanging out with you as a friend. With sexual and musical benefits."

He wanted to ask her what she'd misjudged, and what she thought now. He wanted to ask her why she didn't want a relationship. He wanted to ask what had changed her mind. But above all, he was terrified she'd change her mind, so he just nodded. And then remembered she couldn't see that. "Yes. Of course. Let's do that."

She smiled and shook her head, just slightly. "Okay, nerd." They turned into the little parking area beneath her apartment, passing beneath the balcony. He didn't get off his bike, just leaned on one leg as he watched her climb the stairs to the front door and fumble with her keys. "Night," she called down to him, disappearing into the warmly lit room beyond.

Zuko waited until he heard the lock click before he turned his bike around and headed back home.

What was happening? This night had gone from awful to great, and he understood none of it. He sniffled loudly, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. He'd wash it tonight, it'd be fine. Being sick was going to be brutal, but he didn't _care_ , because Toph would see him again. She'd hit him with her brutal common sense and calm him down, and that was what he really needed, wasn't it? And maybe she'd like his singing as much as he loved her violin.

He was so lost in his thoughts, and his headcold, that he didn't notice the plume of smoke and orange glow on the horizon until he turned the last corner towards his apartment. Four firetrucks were parked outside, engines roaring and lights flashing, spraying foam onto the flames that had devoured his building. He saw his landlord outside, a firefighter giving him water and oxygen on the bumper of one of the trucks.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to finish the fucking roof.


	7. Chapter 7

"Well?" Katara asked. "What happened?"

"What makes you think anything _happened?_ " Toph kicked off her shoes and heard them hit the floor with satisfying thumps. She loved her work boots.

"You went out with a cute guy who was desperate to see you."

"For fuck's sake, Katara. He likes music. He's a friend. He's having a rough week. Snore. Is that what you wanted to hear?" She swung her feet onto her bed, lying down with her regular clothes on. Pajamas seemed like a lot of trouble.

"You're not telling me everything."

How did she know that? Toph made a big show of shrugging. "We talked in the Jasmine Dragon for a while. Iroh gave me some food. He walked me home and said thanks. Now will you leave me alone?"

Katara sighed. "Well, I'll be around if you ever decide to stop lying."

Toph rolled her eyes.

—

The arson investigator said it seemed like an accident, but Zuko know by the grim way he and his uncle glanced surreptitiously at each other the next day that they both knew what had really happened.

Toph didn't come in, with or without her friends. At night, Zuko went up to his uncle's tiny apartment above the restaurant and scrounged around for a blanket. They were both sleeping on the pull-out couch, back to back, and every time his uncle shifted in his sleep and bumped against Zuko's ass he wondered why the fuck his life had gone so far off the rails. He already had to keep his pillow wrapped around his head to drown out the old man snoring and farting, though nothing could counteract the smell.

In the morning, he was exhausted. "Where's the shower, uncle?"

"It's more of a…" Iroh trailed off, rubbing his bearded chin. "Well, I suppose it is a shower." He beckoned him downstairs to the supply closet and showed him a plastic tub on four legs, which could be dragged over to rest over the restaurant's bathroom sink. Hidden in a ceiling tile was a garden hose which apparently was hooked up to the water supply.

Zuko sighed and mentally braced himself for the shittiest shower of his life. "Uncle."

"Zuko?"

He looked up, the green hose partially obscuring his view of his uncle's face. "Do you think she was trying to kill me?"

"You don't know it was her."

"I think we _both_ know it was her."

Iroh looked away first. "She has no reason to hurt you, Zuko. I believe she would come mock you, yes. My niece is a malicious young lady. But I do not think she would try to hurt you in any real way."

 _My feelings are real._ "She called to make sure I was home."

"You don't know that."

Zuko scrubbed his hands across his short hair hard, wishing the pain would give him some clarity. It didn't. "Okay. Well. We'll know more after she visits."

—

"You're really good at your job," June said, "and I'm going to give you a great recommendation."

 _Here comes the but,_ Toph thought.

"But we can't control budget cutbacks. The entire county is laying off twenty, thirty percent of its employees, and you know how government jobs work: seniority. You're our newest hire."

"I understand." Toph said. "I heard about this in the news yesterday. Honestly, I expected something like this."

"Thanks for making my job a little easier," June said, patting Toph's hand. It irritated her immensely, but she understood the older woman meant well. "You're scheduled for half days until the end of the week. Friday's your last day."

Outside, the noon sun was merciless on Toph's skin. It felt strange to be outdoors at this time; she was always working, or practicing indoors. It was quiet, even the traffic subdued, reminding her that seemingly _everyone else_ had a job or school or family or _somewhere_ to be. It'd been only a week since she'd talked Zuko out of his low mood, and now, ha! she had something to compete, next time they met up.

She did some quick mental math with her savings and her last paycheck. The only flex in her budget was how much she spent on food; if she ate normally, she wouldn't be able to make rent, utilities, and her credit card bill at the beginning of the month. It hadn't been cheap to move here. If she cut back to just rice, she could barely make it, which would give her six weeks to either find work or find somewhere else to go.

It didn't look good. With a third of the county unemployed, a lot of people weren't going to be spending money in stores anymore. The county cutback would ripple through every other sector, which meant more layoffs and less jobs. She hated depending on her SSI payments, but even with that trickle of income it was going to be hard to stay here with her friends.

No one was home when she got there. She stubbed her toe three times just trying to get a glass of water, and resisted shattering the glass against the wall just because the set was one of the few things Katara's mother had left her. That and she'd have to clean up the glass shards, and she'd probably fuck up and cut herself open on them.

Fuck it. She'd go spend a few of her last dollars at the Jasmine Dragon.

—

Iroh was smiling as he came back in for the night shift.

"What?" Elbow deep in the sink, Zuko grimaced. "What're you so happy about?"

"Why don't you take the night off?"

Oh, great. He was going to start with _that_ shit again. " _Why?_ "

"Go see Ty Lee's show. It is their last night in town."

He blinked. Azula's visit had been brief and friendly, which only made Zuko more certain she was behind his apartment burning down. She'd even given them a pair of excellent tickets with backstage passes. He reached for the towel, drying his hands and shaking his head. "I don't wa–"

Iroh reached into his apron pocket, pulling out the tickets and pressing them into his nephew's hands. "Just take these and go out and check for customers."

"There's no one out th–"

Iroh pushed him through the swinging door, and he stumbled into the restaurant just as the bell on the front door tinkled.

 _Oh._

Toph's hair was down, a silky black river that flowed all the way down her back. He'd only seen that once before, a memory that made him blush…and also slightly erect. He grabbed a stack of menus to carry in front of him, just in case someone walked in.

"Hey," he said. "Aren't you usually at work at this time?"

"Yeah." She sounded ill.

He took the seat beside her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she repeated. "I got laid off."

"Oh." He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but also didn't want to get punched in the face, so he didn't bother trying. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I've got a few weeks to find something else. I just want to get my mind off it. Tell me about your life instead. Did your sister visit you?"

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The night before she visited, while we were hanging out, my building burned down."

Toph laughed.

"…I didn't think that was funny," Zuko said quietly.

"No, it's not, it's just–I thought I had a sob story, getting laid off, but you topped it within a minute and a half."

He had to smile at that. "It wasn't on purpose."

"I know." When she had a goofy grin on her face like that, it made him feel like he could do anything. "So where are you staying?"

"Here, with my uncle."

She raised a brow. "What's that like?"

"We sleep in the same bed."

She winced.

"Actually, it's not a bed," he corrected himself, "it's more of a…pull-out couch. But it's broken, so you can't actually fold it into a couch again."

"Enough said." She sighed, resting her forehead on her palms. "Let's go do something fun and free. We both deserve it. Let's throw rocks at trains."

"No, let's–wait, what? Rocks at–why?"

She laughed. "I dunno. It clangs off the side. It's harmless."

"Still, no." He had an idea. "What if I take you to a surprise place instead? It's loud and rowdy, but we'll be safe."

"As long as it's free."

"It's better than free," he promised. "We'll come out ahead."

"Are we going to a casino?" she grinned. "Play a card game. I'll schmooze up to one of the other guys and whisper bad advice into his ear before he realizes I'm blind."

"No," he smiled. "No more guessing. Let me just tell my uncle I'm leaving."

—

The bus was crowded. They held onto the hand rails for the whole trip, a baby crying beside toph's left ear, a man loudly eating chips beside her right.

"Too far to bike?" she asked Zuko.

"Too far to take _my_ bike," he said. "It'd never survive."

She didn't recognize the intersection; she was still too new to the town. As soon as they got off the bus, though, she heard _noise_. Shreiky noise. Teenagers.

"Where the hell are we?"

"I'll tell you in a while."

Grabbing her hand, he led her over to a food cart and got her a drink, then found her a shady spot under a tree. "Don't move. I'll be back."

She shrugged, opening the cap on her bottle of Coke. It was a mild day, and no one really bothered her as they rushed by. Wherever the body of the crowd was, she was out of their way. She slid her phone out of her bag, putting in one earbud and hitting play on Janacek's Sinfonietta.

It wasn't longer than half an hour before he was back.

"I lost my old touch," he said, dropping down beside her. "Only twenty one."

"Twenty one what? _Dollars_? Where the–"

"Twenty one hundred. Scalping." She could hear the grin in his voice, the exhiliration. "My sister gave me tickets to Ty Lee's concert."

For a moment she could only sit there, and blink.

"So what're you going to do with it?" Zuko asked.

"I–I can't take it!" She sputtered. "Are you kidding? I could never! Use it to get a new apartment and a new bike."

"I'm fine with what I have. I don't want you to move away."

Why was he so _nice_? It was sickening. It was amazing. It was too much to process. "Zuko…"

"Okay," he reasoned. "Here's what I'll do. I'll keep it on me, and if you haven't found work in a few weeks, you can take as much as you need."

She pressed her lips tightly together, then punched him in the arm.

" _Ow_! What was that for?"

"That's how I show affection," she smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

"So when did you stop wanting to be a lawyer?"

What a weird question. Zuko frowned, not that she could see it. Even if she could see at all, she was facing away from him, sitting sidesaddle on the crossbar of his bicycle. "I don't know. I didn't really think about it, I just followed the path my dad set out for me. Right turn."

She gripped the bar and leaned with him as he rounded the corner. "You got a 175 on the LSATs and you didn't even care? Shit, what happens when you actually _want_ to do something?"

It was hard to remember that time in his life, harder still when his arms were on either side of her, making sure she didn't fall off. He kept resisting the urge to steer with one hand and wrap the other around her waist. It was all very distracting. "I kind of wanted to. I had these vague ideas of what it would be like, and, I don't know, helping people. Left turn. But it wasn't what my dad had in mind."

They were nearly back to her place. He leaned his bike against its usual place at the base of the stairs, and she slid off the crossbar with their McDonald's bag clutched in her hand.

"We could have gotten something better, Toph."

"Yeah, we're flush with cash," she grinned, leading the way up the stairs. "We should have dreamt big and gone to Taco Bell. Bought combos instead of dollar menu stuff."

He was a little hesitant to go inside, but it was empty and quiet.

"I live with two couples," Toph said dryly, as if sensing his relief. "Friday's their date night."

"Oh." Did that make this a date? No, she'd said _their_ date night. This was her last-day-of-work consolation party, where he'd promised her a low-stress experience without worrying about the future or asking her about her plans. With the apartment empty, did she expect something other than cheap food? Oh, god, he didn't have condoms. He never had condoms, because he never had sex, because he lived in an attic and slept on the same futon as his uncle. Oh, god, she was going to throw him out again.

"Hello? Are you still here? Which one?"

"What?" Zuko blinked. She was on the couch, unpacking the bag of food onto the well-worn coffee table.

"I asked if you wanted a chicken sandwich or a burger."

"Oh." Wow, he was out of it tonight. He sat down between the couch and the table, at her feet. "Whichever one you don't want."

She tossed one his way. Chicken. "So you were saying your dad wanted you to be an _evil_ lawyer, I assume."

"Uh, well, he wanted me to work for him."

"So yeah, evil," Toph smirked.

"I don't know if it's that clear cut," he said. "It doesn't matter, anyway. Once he disowned me, he focused on Azula. Eventually, she ditched the old business, too, and did what she wanted with her life."

"Whatever," she said around a mouthful of food. "I'm not talking about your dad's stupid plans, I'm talking about you."

"What about me? That's the whole story."

"Well, don't you still want to be a lawyer? Helping people and shit?"

That hurt, though he was sure she didn't mean it to. "I thought we weren't going to talk about the future."

" _My_ future," she pointed out. "Yours is still fair game."

He put down his half-finished sandwich, appetite dissipating. "You know how I live now," he said quietly. "It doesn't seem realistic to ride my broken bicycle to Harvard and say, 'hey, remember when you admitted me? Well, I'm tens of thousands of dollars short now, but you'll still let me in, right?'"

Somehow, her hand found his resting on the table. "Yeah, but you don't have to go to Harvard. Katara's going to medical school and she's as poor as any of us. She went to community college, then the state university, and a state medical school, and Aang helps her out. She has like a billion dollars in student loans, but she's going to be a doctor. Couldn't you take that ticket money and do the same kind of thing? Work your way through a different law school? Your uncle would have your back. It probably wouldn't be as bad as medical school."

How had he never considered that? "I–I don't know. I guess I could."

"Think about it." She lifted her hand, and he craved the warmth that had passed between them. "Maybe ask Katara about it sometime."

"Aren't they coming back soon?" He asked.

"Probably in a couple of hours, but you'll have to ask her tomorrow or something." She made a face as she crumpled up her burger wrapper and put it in the bag. "We had an incident with Sokka, so we have an agreement for Friday nights now. Everyone stays in their room when they get home."

He didn't want to think about that. Rooming with any of those obnoxious people seemed like it'd be a challenge. He threw his own wrapper in the bag, then threw the bag in the trash can. A perfect shot from across the room! Too bad she hadn't seen it. "Should I go before they get back?"

She was quiet for a moment, just long enough to give him a tiny spark of hope. "I was hoping you'd stay. I can play for you in my room."

The spark ignited something inside him. "I'd like that."

Her room was small, of course. He wouldn't have expected anything else. Still, her rickety twin bed was more comfortable and sturdy than the futon he shared with Iroh, and the company was incomparable. She sat down beside him after she hooked up her amp, stripping off her sweater before she picked up her violin.

"Get comfortable if you want. I'm always cold, so I have a ton of blankets." She gestured to the foot of her bed, where they were sloppily folded. "What do you want to hear?"

"Anything you want to play." He kicked off his shoes and did as she said, getting comfortable with a blanket in the corner where her bed met the wall. Was there anything better than this? he wondered. She was sitting crosslegged as she tuned, her hair still a mess from their bike ride across town.

"Showtunes?" she grinned.

He sighed. "You won't let that go."

"Nope." She lifted her bow, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and focus on the beautiful sound as she began to play. It wasn't worth it when he could keep his eyes open and watch her instead.

He didn't remember the name of the song, but it didn't matter. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard.

"Isn't that a famous one?" he asked after she played the last notes. "It was amazing."

"Yeah," she laughed. "It's Vivaldi. What next? Showtunes?"

"Why are you tormenting me?"

"I'm not trying to torment you," she promised. "I just…"

Zuko figured he was just smart enough to know she was getting at something, but not smart enough to know what. "You just…?"

She turned her face away from him. Was she blushing and hiding it? No, probably not. He didn't think Toph was capable of blushing. "I thought you could sing for me."

Well, now _he_ was blushing. "I'm not very good, but I'd love to sing for you, Toph."

"I'll put my phone on shuffle until it gives me a song you know." she slid it out of her pocket and put one earbud in, listening intently.

He waited in silence, studying her profile as she focused. Her features were delicate, an incredible contrast to her strength of character. _God, she's beautiful._

"Hm." She raised her bow and played a few notes. "This one?"

He blinked. "Is that the beginning of _Another Suitcase in Another Hall_?"

"Yeah."

"Why that song?" It seemed like a preface to kicking him out again.

"I just want to hear you sing it," she insisted. "I'll even sing the chorus."

She didn't wait for him to say yes; she started playing again, and he sang. He sang his dumb little heart out, because he wanted her to be impressed, and maybe because he _did_ feel the lyrics a little bit. _So what happens now?_ He had no idea where he was going in life. All he knew was that he was going to lose his only friend before long.

And he realized that he hadn't been honest with himself. The truth was, over the weeks, he'd come to _love_ his only friend. It was way too soon to admit that to anyone but himself. He barely knew her. And she seemed determined to leave before long.

 _Call in three months' time and I'll be fine, I know. Or maybe not that fine, but I'll survive, anyhow._ He would. He always did. _But that's no consolation, here and now._

Would she be fine?

 _Where am I going to?_

The mood had been light before the song, but afterwards, Toph looked somber. She put away her violin and switched off her system, and he didn't stop her.

"I guess I forgot what the lyrics were," she said.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too, until I was singing them."

She came back to the bed, kicking off her shoes and sitting crosslegged again, closer to him. "Let's talk about something else."

"Toph…" She looked so forlorn, he reached out to touch her shoulder. Somehow he ended up opening his arms, and she fell into them. He leaned up against the corner and wrapped the blanket around them both, and she rested her head on his chest. "You're going to be okay," he whispered.

"You think so?" her voice was soft. He'd never heard it so quiet before.

"Yes." His hand seemed to move of its own volition, pulling the clip out of her hair and stroking it, from the top of her head to where it ended at her waist. "You're amazing, talented, and smart. Things might seem bad now, but they're going to turn around."

"I thought I could finally live in peace," she muttered. "With friends. Earning my own keep. I thought I finally got out of the system."

"The system?"

She swallowed, her throat convulsing visibly. "Foster care," she said hoarsely. "Then an assisted living facility. I…"

His heart was breaking.

"They took me away from my parents when I was eleven," she choked out. "They used to lock me in the house. They didn't want anyone to know they had me. I was useless to them, except as…" She shook her head against his shirt, then pushed abruptly off him, sitting up. "Never mind. It is what it is."

"You can tell me," he murmured. "You don't have to, but you can."

She took a shaky breath, running both of her hands through her hair. "It was bad. Really bad. You don't have to know. I'm sure…" Her voice seemed to desert her for a moment, but it returned, and she forged on. "…I'm sure you can imagine what people will do to a little blind girl who can't fight back. In high school, I finally got all the training I should have had as a kid, you know? How to use the Hoover cane, how to use assistive technology. Suki taught me some self defense. Sokka spotted me in the gym," she said with a small laugh, rubbing her runny nose on her sleeve. "It was bad after that, too, but I finally learned how to be _myself_. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "Believe me, I understand more than you might think."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Yeah. That's it. I never really told anyone about it, but Katara just _knows_ , because that's how she is. Really intuitive. She's going to be a great doctor. Don't tell her I said that," she added sharply, eyes snapping open.

"I won't," he said, half-smiling.

"Thanks. And…thank you for listening."

"You listened to me complain about my family for way longer," he pointed out.

"I did," she said with a wet laugh. "Hey, do you think you could hold me again?"

He folded her into his arms. It felt natural for her to be there. Sitting sideways on his lap, it reminded him of how she sat on his bike. It was perfect. "Want me to sing?"

She nodded against his chest.

He knew just the song.


End file.
